Fatal Thunder: A Jerry Mitchell Novel (53 page)

General Shi sighed and suddenly looked very tired. “China is grateful for America’s continuing assistance, and we will consider your advice carefully.”

21 April 2017

1100 Local Time

Amritsar, India

The local police had set up a checkpoint a block away from the address. Senior inspector Narendra Bhati had to thread his way through a crowd of locals to reach the barrier, but after seeing his badge, the officers guarding it quickly saluted and moved aside to let him past. A Sikh police corporal offered to guide him to the lieutenant who was the on-scene commander.

The crime scene was a mass of flashing lights and dozens of people milling about. Most were firemen or police, with a sprinkling of other emergency workers. The corporal led him past a line of idling fire engines to a van labeled “Amritsar District Police.” The doors were open and Bhati could see a very busy police lieutenant, also a Sikh, trying to speak on the radio and to a fireman at the same time. He noticed the corporal, with Bhati in tow, and held up one hand while he signed off the radio, then quickly finished with the sergeant.

He also saluted when Bhati flashed his CBI credentials, then said happily, “I am more than pleased to turn over jurisdiction of this matter to the Central Bureau of Investigation.”

“Not so fast, Lieutenant,” Bahti said. “Just what are you trying to give me?”

“They didn’t tell you?”

Bhati shook his head and replied with an irritated voice. “The office just gave me this address and said it was likely a CBI matter.”

The lieutenant laughed. “‘Likely’ is one word for it. That makes sense. Security.” He took out a small notebook, and took a breath.

“The fire brigade was called at nine eleven this morning, after they received a report of black smoke rising at an address on Canal Bank Road.” He tilted his head toward the bungalow behind him. “Emergency services received a call at nine twenty-five of gunshots at the same address. Two cars were dispatched and the fire brigade company en route was warned to wait for the police before entering the structure.

“The fire brigade arrived at nine twenty-seven, the police two minutes later. They effected entry through the front door, which was unlocked, and declared the building cleared five minutes later. They discovered one individual, deceased, inside the house. As per standard procedure, a lieutenant and an ambulance were dispatched. I arrived while the fire brigade extinguished what appeared to be a trash fire in the backyard. They said it had been intentionally set.

“I took charge of the scene, which was an apparent suicide of an elderly male. I immediately recognized the individual as someone wanted by the CBI. I notified headquarters, and they summoned you.”

The lieutenant’s briefing, while efficient, was also entirely uninformative. “Who is it?” Bhati demanded with impatience. The lieutenant just put his finger to his lips, smiled, and motioned for the inspector to follow him. The fire brigade was still rolling up hoses, but they made room for the two men to pass.

The yard was small and the landscaping was not particularly impressive. It was enclosed by a low iron fence, and a paved walkway led up to a modest house that was practical and well kept. The lieutenant explained, “It’s a rental property used mostly by tourists. The landlord is on his way here. He said the current occupant had rented it for two weeks.”

The front door was open, leading into a well-furnished living room. An easy chair in one corner held the corpse of an older man. A spatter of blood and gray matter on the wall behind him told Bhati the manner of death, and an automatic pistol in his lap seemingly confirmed the method. He was sure the medical examiner would find the bullet hole and powder burns on the roof of his mouth.

It wasn’t until then that he paused in his examination to look at the face of the corpse. It was untouched by the bullet. A shock of recognition and excitement flashed through Bhati’s body. Vice Admiral Badu Singh Dhankhar was the most wanted man in India, but he’d decided to make himself unavailable.

Bhati gathered himself. The news media in India and indeed, throughout the world, had been in an uproar for two days. That was when the population had learned of a frightening plot that had been stopped by the destruction of the nuclear submarine,
Chakra
, and its crew of seventy-three. The submarine was destroyed by Indian naval assets after it had gone renegade and evidently intent on starting a nuclear war with China. Vice Admiral Dhankhar, a famous and respected naval officer, had been named as the ringleader, and his image was plastered all over India.

The CBI had actually received orders to find Dhankhar two weeks earlier, for reasons then unexplained. News of the conspiracy had let Bhati and the rest of the special crime branch at the regional headquarters in Chandigarh put the pieces together.

It was a miracle that the two police officers that cleared the house had not recognized him.

“What about the fire?” Bhati asked, already suspecting the answer.

“Mostly paper, but other objects as well. Pieces of plastic, and what looks like a melted cell phone, perhaps other personal electronics.” The lieutenant pointed to a bedroom. “There’s a laptop computer in there with several bullet holes through it.”

The senior inspector organized his thoughts. “Bring in more men to fully secure the area, and your best forensics team. Tell the fire brigade not to touch the remains of that fire, but don’t let them leave yet. Have your people go over the entire house with a fine comb, and don’t let the two officers who found the body talk to anyone until I’ve spoken with them.”

The lieutenant was writing rapidly as Bhati spat out orders. When he paused, Bhati realized he’d run out of urgent tasks. That was enough to get started. “You’ve done well, Lieutenant. Get your people busy. I have to make a call.”

Bhati stepped outside to phone his superiors. As busy as this place was now, it was going to get a whole lot busier.

23 April 2017

0700 Local Time

CNN

“This is Sam Markham with breaking news: The nuclear weapon originally intended for Victoria Harbor in Hong Kong finally detonated at noon local time today. Initial reports confirm it was a larger weapon—much, much larger than the ten-kiloton nuclear depth bomb used two days ago to destroy the wreck of the rogue Indian submarine
Chakra
and its deadly cargo.”

An inset showed a flat ocean horizon suddenly rising up in an angry white ball, ringed with fire. “That relatively small explosion was in water less than two hundred feet deep. Luckily, this much larger weapon had been dropped into water over four thousand feet deep.

“As far as can be determined, there was no loss of life or property damage. The explosion did not break the surface of the water, although the site was kept clear as a safety precaution. Scientific teams have moved in to determine the radiation levels at the site of the explosion and when it will be safe for fishing vessels to return to the area. Commercial traffic, which was severely disrupted by the exclusion zone, will resume normal operations immediately.

“Although the Indians are credited with the destruction of their renegade submarine, apparently American naval forces were heavily involved, and the full story of the hunt and sinking of
Chakra
will depend on the willingness of those involved to share what was a battle hidden under the surface of a distant ocean.

“The Indian government has declared a state of emergency while the hunt continues for the plotters of what we now know was called ‘Operation Vajra.’ The destruction of the rogue submarine and the suicide of the ringleader have not dampened the Indian authorities’ investigation completely, and what has been learned comes from several high-ranking government officials now facing charges of treason and terrorism.

“News of the scandal forced the Indian delegation in Geneva to abandon the dormant Indo-Pak peace talks, literally disappearing in the middle of the night. Indian troops have been withdrawing to their original starting lines inside India for several days, and experts believe that the once-temporary cease-fire will now be extended indefinitely, even if an official peace treaty is never signed.

“Upon receiving news of the final torpedo’s detonation, President Myles’s staff released a prepared statement. ‘This thankfully harmless explosion is the coda to the Littoral Alliance war, which has claimed more lives in recent days, but could have exploded into a worldwide disaster. Its successful resolution required the courageous efforts of both individuals and nations who were more interested in peace than power. Let their actions be an example to us all.’”

EPILOGUE

29 April 2017

USS
North Dakota

Wharf B, U.S. Naval Base Guam

The commodore had the base’s band at the pier, playing “Victory at Sea” as
North Dakota
pulled in. Jerry had one of his more junior officers make the approach, with only a minor bobble, due to a wind setting them off the pier.

Simonis and the rest of his staff were drawn up in welcome, but the families were absent. That had been scheduled for the evening, after Jerry, his officers, and senior enlisted had been debriefed, and instructed on what they could and couldn’t say.

Once the lines were over and the inport watch set, the three sub captains came ashore. Jerry, Samant, and Petrov received four bells each, and the 1MC announcing system blared, “
North Dakota
, departing,” then “Captain, Indian Navy, departing,” and finally “Captain, Russian Navy, retired, departing.”

Both Samant and Petrov were still wearing their
North Dakota
ball caps, but Samant replaced his with his Indian Navy uniform cover once he was on the pier. Commodore Simonis, with a larger smile than Jerry remembered, greeted each at the foot of the brow, and joked, “There were so many bells I thought you were on fire.”

Most of
North Dakota
’s wardroom followed the three senior officers off the ship, and along with the staff, piled into vans bound for the squadron headquarters and the debriefing.

Simonis offered them a ride in his official car, but said, “Jerry, you usually like to stretch your legs when you come ashore.” To Jerry’s guests, he explained, “It’s a ten-minute walk from here.” They were all agreeable.

The four officers started out, and Simonis immediately said, “Dr. Patterson sends her apologies to all of you. She had hoped to be here to welcome you back herself, but managing the aftermath of the situation is demanding more of her time than the crisis itself. She also mentioned something about ‘not embarrassing Jerry any further.’”

That earned Jerry curious looks from both Samant and Petrov, but he just answered, “I’ll explain later,” and kept walking.

Simonis adjusted his stride to walk alongside Captain Samant. “I have the honor of relaying messages to you from two presidents. Our President Myles sends his deepest condolences over the loss of
Chakra
, and wishes he could award you a medal for your courage both during and at the end of this crisis.

“On the other hand, President Handa appears ready to award you several medals, and broadly hinted that when you return, you should visit a uniform shop for admirals’ rank insignia. He wants you back ASAP, and there has been negotiation at the highest levels of our governments regarding when that will be. As far as we are concerned, that’s whenever you want.”

Next he turned to Petrov. “My instructions are to offer you our deepest thanks, and to ask if there is anything the United States can offer you in appreciation.”

Petrov shrugged. “We three talked during the trip back. I don’t think I can get my old job back, and I don’t know if I’d even be welcome in Russia. I’ve been instrumental in embarrassing my government, and I’ve been party to the loss of another Russian submarine.” The Russian intentionally bumped into Jerry as he finished his statement.

Jerry’s hands flew up in frustration, and he all but pleaded, “Alex, will you give it a rest! Please!” Samant chuckled, having been informed of the inside joke, while Simonis looked on with confusion.

“Well, I can guarantee that the U.S. would welcome you, Captain Petrov,” Simonis said, and Jerry nodded firmly.

The Russian smiled but shook his head. “Thank you, but President Handa said that I’d ‘always have a home in India,’ which is about the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, and Girish has made the point that the Indian Navy will need technical experts like me for a long time yet.”

Samant appeared totally surprised and said, “But … but you’re always complaining about the heat, and the spicy food!”

Petrov shrugged with a broad grin. “I’ll cope. Besides, I’m starting to like cricket.”

As they were finishing their walk, Simonis was reminded of a message he had to pass on. He began with the four most feared words.

“Oh, by the way, Jerry, in addition to a well-deserved ‘well done,’ from the entire chain of command, I have to warn you: Dr. Patterson’s been finalizing plans with Emily for a house-hunting expedition to Washington, D.C. You don’t rotate out for a while yet, but Emily wants to find a new home now, before the baby comes. Besides, real estate transactions can take longer to arrive than a baby.”

Simonis smiled wolfishly. “You’ll
love
the Pentagon.”

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

USS
North Dakota
(SSN 784)

Commander Jerry Mitchell, Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Commander Bernie Thigpen, Executive Officer

Department Heads

Lieutenant Commander Philip Sobecki, Chief Engineer

Lieutenant Steven Westbrook, Supply Officer (“the Chop”)

Lieutenant David Covey, Weapons Officer

Division Officers

Lieutenant Russell Iverson, Main Propulsion Assistant

Lieutenant Kiyoshi Iwahashi, Damage Control Assistant

Lieutenant (j.g.) Quela Lymburn (“Q”), Assistant Weapons Officer

Lieutenant (j.g.) Stuart Gaffney, Sonar Officer